A Stokes Sweatshirt
by The Notorious Cat
Summary: ONESHOT Feeling miserable and doubting her worth to the C.S.I. team, Sara needs someone to pull her out of her depression. Luckily, the owner of a certain sweatshirt is there to lend a helping hand. Nick-Sara


- Narrator's Point Of View -  
  
Shuffling into the locker room, Sara Sidle made her way slowly across the room, plopping herself down onto a bench with a sigh. She was a pretty girl, not overly gorgeous, but not displeasing either. She leaned over and planted her face in her hands, slightly smudging the little make-up she did have on. Not that she cared. This night had been way too...over-bearing for her to handle.  
  
Getting up, she walked over to her locker, and picked up the lock. With her head against the locker and titled downwards, she tried to open the lock. 24...15...5. Nope, missed it. 24...15...5. Missed it. She took a deep breath and tried again. 24...15...DAMNIT missed again! She slammed the lock against the metal door and shoved herself down on a seat, a sob caught in her throat. She tried to fight it, after all she was at work, she needed to be professional. She was winning too, for a while she was winning the fight, until...  
  
Elsewhere, Nicholas Stokes, C.S.I. Level 3, rounded the corner. He was tall, muscular, and the flirt of the team. Never failing to live up to reputation as an ex-jock or as a ladies man, Nick was always there to lend a helping hand and a smile.  
  
"Yeah man," he yelled to Warrick, his African-American colleague, and a close friend, "we'll just see who wins tonight's game, won't we?"  
  
"You always think you're gonna win our bets, don't you Stokes?" Warrick called back, "Well, you better plan on bringing 20 extra dollars tomorrow, cause you're gonna owe me."  
  
"Okay. See you later. I'm headin' to the locker room to pick up my jacket. Talk to you tomorrow!" Nick smiled and waved.  
  
- Nick's Point Of View -  
  
But that smile soon vanished as I glanced through the locker room window. There was Sara, sitting on the bench, tears streaming down her face. I had heard she had been through a tough case tonight, and I was worried about her. As of late, her entire attitude, her outlook on life almost, had seemed diminished and sad. Every chance I got, I tried to cheer her up, and she would brighten for a minute, but darken soon after. I opened the door and walked quietly into the room, trying not to alarm her.  
  
"Sara?" I called out softly.  
  
She jumped a little and turned, hurriedly wiping her eyes.  
  
"What Nick?" she said. Her tone of voice was nasty, cruel and pitiless. It tore me apart that she would speak to me in such a brutal manner, but my worry for her was greater than any feelings of resentment right now.  
  
I went to sit by her.  
  
"Sara, what's been bothering you lately? You've been so sad and depressed, I'm worried. We all are."  
  
"Nothing Nick. I'm fine."  
  
She dropped her head, but I lifted her chin with a gentle hand. Looking into her eyes, I asked her again.  
  
"Sara, something is wrong. Please tell me. It'll make both of us feel better."  
  
She remained silent, so I started in another direction.  
  
"I heard about your case."  
  
At that, she lost control. She lost the fight that she had fought so hard to win. She broke down in tears, and I scooped her up into his arms and held her, rubbing her back and soothing her. She cried into me, her arms around my neck and her face in my shoulder. I tried to comfort her, and it seemed to be working quite unexpectedly well.  
  
- Sara's Point Of View -  
  
After a minute, I leaned back a little, still remaining in Nick's arms. Thinking to myself, I can't help but love how they felt around me, so safe and tender. With a sniffle and a smile, I looked into his eyes, and he returned the smile, though his lips toyed between joy and concern.  
  
"I got your shirt wet." I said, half embarrassed, half trying to keep off topic.  
  
Not even looking at his shirt, he replied, "Right now, that's the least of my worries."  
  
At this, I broke his gaze, looking down.  
  
"Sara," he said calmly, "I'd like to learn what's troubling you like this. But, I'd like to do it in a little less public of a place. Besides, Eckley'll be here soon."  
  
I breathed a laugh at that, but remained silent, waiting for him to speak.  
  
"Do you want to come to my place? I'll make you breakfast."  
  
He smiled broadly at me, reminding me just how handsome he really was.  
  
"Alright. You're on. But make me breakfast? Where'd you learn to cook?"  
  
He grinned with that perfect smile of his, saying "Contrary to popular belief, Discovery Channel is not the only channel I watch."  
  
Standing slowly, I looked out the window. A few people walked by, but no one seemed to notice me and Nick. I smiled. Me and Nick. I liked the sound of that.  
  
Nick stood as well, showing me out the door. As he wrapped his arm around my paper thin waist, he whispered in my ear, "How bout steak and eggs for breakfast?"  
  
The vegetarian just elbowed him with a smile.  
  
When we got home, Nick offered to cook me breakfast, but I only wanted a bagel. He had had breakfast sandwich not too long ago, so we just talked casually while I ate.  
  
I can't help but love how happy he makes me feel. At home, when I am alone, I always felt so empty and worthless. With Nick, I have some rhyme and reason for what I am doing.  
  
When I was done, Nick ushered me into his living room, and we both sat on the couch. Facing me, Nick asked again.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
I took a deep breath.  
  
"I...it's hard too explain. Sometimes, I feel like I don't do my job well enough."  
  
- Nick's Point Of View -  
  
I was shocked, and I wondered where she got that idea from. She is one of the best C.S.I.'s I know, with a solve rate to be reckoned with. But I let her continue without saying a word.  
  
"After Eddie's case, the pressure from Catherine and all was a lot. I didn't have enough evidence to work with, I didn't want to shut the case down. I really want to be friends with her, but ever since that case, I feel like she thinks I can't do my job."  
  
"And this Suzanna Kirkwood thing...I just couldn't deal with it. If she would have written the damn number on the slip during the line up....Oh God Nick you have no idea..."  
  
Tears fell freely from her eyes, and she didn't do anything to stop them. It seemed like she didn't even notice.  
  
"Nick...a young girl is dead because she couldn't write a four on a piece of paper! Why? I hate it, it isn't fair. I feel like I failed her too."  
  
I motioned for her to scoot closer and she did. I wrapped my arms securely around her, kissing her forehead as she clung to me.  
  
"It's the system. I know it sucks, but sometimes, it's the only thing that solves murders. You just gotta focus on the good parts. It'll be alright. I swear."  
  
- Sara's Point Of View -  
  
I smile at his positive outlook.  
  
"How do you do it?"  
  
He looked at me, puzzled.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Stay so positive, even in the worst of times?"  
  
"A lot has happened to me in Vegas, so I learn to focus on the good happenings, not the bad."  
  
He touched my hand.  
  
"Sara you're freezing! Oh my God, let me get you something to warm you up."  
  
He got up, but was back in thirty seconds or less with a huge warm sweatshirt. It had the San Francisco 49'ers on the front, and the name Stokes on the back. He practically shoved it over my head while trying to help me into it.  
  
"Nick, relax! I'll live."  
  
"I'm just worried."  
  
I smiled. Having someone worry about me was nice.  
  
"Thanks. I feel like a real member of the Stokes family now."  
  
I smelled Nick's soft soap and cologne scent on his sweatshirt, and I can't say I don't enjoy it.  
  
"Nicky?"  
  
He looked at me.  
  
"Do you mind if I take off my shirt and wear your sweatshirt?"  
  
He smiled that sexy smile.  
  
"No," he said, significantly increasing his Southern accent, "it my lucky day when a pretty girl like you doesn't want to wear her own shirt around my house!"  
  
"Nick!" I blushed.  
  
"What?" he said, all innocent like, "You're gorgeous!"  
  
I got up and punched him in the stomach. He just smiled and slung his arm around my shoulders and exclaimed, "Why now, what was that for BABY?"  
  
I couldn't help it anymore. I just started laughing.  
  
"You said you felt like a real member of the Stokes family, and there's no other way you are gonna get in it unless you marry me. I've only got sisters."  
  
"Well," I winked flirtatiously, "I'll think about it."  
  
He just beamed. But his face soon turned to seriousness.  
  
"No," he said, "but really, I'm about ready to find Mrs. Stokes. Most of the things you've heard about me being a ladies man and a casual dater are true, and I'm sick of it. I wanna settle down, have two or three kids."  
  
I answered.  
  
"Three. That's how many I've always wanted. But I barely know anyone in Vegas, and I hate blind dates and going out with someone I don't even know. Maybe I'll have to move back home to find someone. No one in Vegas seems to like me."  
  
"Are you kidding?" Nick said with an incredulous look on his face, "Some guy is going to be very lucky one day, ending up with you. I envy him."  
  
I smiled and felt myself turning a shade of magenta. Nick reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.  
  
"Please don't move away from Vegas."  
  
I scooted toward him, my lips six inches from his.  
  
"I won't."  
  
Nick leaned forwards, they're lips two inches apart.  
  
"I'd miss you too much."  
  
I closed the gap, capturing his lips and pushing him backwards. He tipped and landed in a laying position on the couch me on top of him. The kiss was soft, brief, but meaningful nonetheless. When we broke it, Nick was lying on his side with his back against the back of the couch, my front to his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, edging me closer, pressing me against him. My arms tucked in front of me, and I used one to cup Nick's face. He kissed me again, just a little one, reassuring her he felt the same way. Then he gave me a little squeeze and closed his eyes.  
  
That's how they fell asleep, in each other's arms. Sara still had on the Stokes sweatshirt, and in the moonlight, it looked like a nametag, like Sara was identifying herself, and that Nick was claiming her for his own.  
  



End file.
